


Lesson 1. Old Man Ass Needs Time to Adjust.

by Endee, girlsloveyaoi



Series: The Lesson Series [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Haytham x Connor
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endee/pseuds/Endee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsloveyaoi/pseuds/girlsloveyaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And this is why we should have gone slowly.” Haythams glare morphed into a grimace the moment Connor placed him upon their bed. “To give old man ass the chance to adjust.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson 1. Old Man Ass Needs Time to Adjust.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I thought I'd try a comedic hand given our break from vindication (note I said break. not termination). Edited by the lovely NecrosisDemon a while back, I thought I'd post this considering our extensive absence. This isn't the same Universe as Vindication, however for those who enjoy Vindi the characterization is the same as are there attitudes towards one another. Something light hearted and simplistic with a wee touch of porn....because porn. Really, does anyone need an excuse to validate writing Connor x Haytham?
> 
> Thanks for the support and enjoy the first installment of 'The Lesson Series'!

Had Connor asked why, he would have stated, 'Because I wish to.' Truth be told, he’d no definitive reason to speak of. Simply, the desire was there, lingering in the recesses of his mind, having come full circle on the day of his birth. at it's unwillingness to subside Haytham acquiesced, waltzing into the kitchen.

“I’m going to bottom today.”

A clattering spoon and a bolus of Applejacks a mere inch away from his face. Charming as ever, Connor. 

“Um, good morning to you too.” He spoke in between coughs, wiping the table of the mess.

“Now.” Confused brown met grey, Connor tentatively reaching out to touch Haytham’s forehead, frowning. Haytham took it upon himself to grab said hand and lick finger tips, smirking as his son withdrew with a faint blush.

“Dad I have no idea what’s gotten into you-”

“Nothing at the moment, hence why I’m requesting assistance from the likes of you. I seek to remedy said problem.” Connors eye twitched, look beyond incredulous.

“You haven’t bottomed in our relationship once." And emphasis, like it was needed. "Not once.”

“I did years ago, lad.”

“How many?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“...what if I said it’s to gauge how gentle I’m to be?” A snort left Haytham, his mood pleasant. Otherwise, it would have been a scoff.

“I’d say you severely over exaggerate either my propensity for pain or your equipment.” That got him a glare, not that he was surprised.

“My equipment is an inherited feature.”

“Good heavens, lad. Just what are you implying about your mother when you make such brazen comments?” Tan fists shook, Connor dumping his bowl in the sink with a clatter. Haytham sighed. “It was a jest, lad.”

“A crude one.”

“Perhaps, but not ill meaning.” She remained a sensitive topic for them both. Haytham was simply less open in his affection and grief. “Your need to be gentle- while touching- isn’t likeable to my person. I’d much prefer-”

“Yeah, I’m aware of what you prefer dad. You do it to me often enough.” The faucet ran, Haytham blinking innocently. 

“Only at your insistence. You don’t exactly vocalize ‘softer, gentler’ whilst in the middle of your throes.”

Well, he had a point. Still, Connor would concede nothing. “Be that as it may, your methods are vigorous-”

“Vigorous is best boy.”

“Should you not consider something less strenuous though?" The flutter of dark lashes, faucet turned off. "You are aging. I couldn’t live with myself if you broke a hip on my account.”

“Shut up and fetch the rope. And a gag. We’ll clearly be needing it.”

He watched Haytham leave with a smirk, calling after him. “That’s please fetch the rope. And I thought you said my mouth was a gift of from the gods.” Or he did last night. It was something to that affect.

“Fetch the rope because I bloody told you to, you insolent child.” Salt and paper hair, and matching gray eyes peaked from around the corner. “And your mouth is a gift from the gods.” Connors fought the urge to throw his shoe in his general direction, loosing the battle after Haytham disappeared. “ When it’s full and prevents your dribble.”

~*~

He’d been kind and took an extra few minutes, checking the chords they often used for any twining, sharper edges. Granted Haytham would’ve preferred he hadn’t, but that was hardly his decision to make. Connor was in charge here, at least for the day or hour...however long his father deemed necessary. It was his birthday, and he never asked for anything before...

'That’s because he’s a dick and makes you do everything.'

Even so, he’d grown almost accustomed to his behavior by now. It wasn’t intentional, but rather who he was. Fighting it lost it’s appeal long ago, their arguments simply an enjoyable way to pass time. Peaking his head inside the bedroom, he noted his father already waiting. Sans clothes. Impatiently tapping his foot against the bedding beneath him.

Somethings never changed, regardless of position.

“I asked you to fetch the ropes, not fashion one yourself.”

“Hardee har har, that jokes almost as old as you.” It came out muffled as he removed his shirt, dark muscled skin on display.

“See something you like?”

“I did, but then it started talking.” The retort was a boot to the head, Haytham swatting it from his face as Connor chucked the other at him, that one actually hitting him. Huh.

“What happened, old man? Reflexes slowing?”

“Psh, hardly. Blocking wasn’t worth the effort.” Uh huh. Pants fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, Connor set to speak again but halting at the look on his father’s face.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

“If that’s a euphemism for ‘my attractive son,’ then perhaps.” An identical pair of twitching lips, and Connor grabbed the chord from the floor. “Head board or bed post?”

“I quite like the bed post. Offers a better view.”

“How considerate of you.” Haytham merely raised an eyebrow as Connor approached him. He mad no move to sit though, rather knotting the chord around the bed post, looking at Haytham expectantly.

Did he think...no. Surely he didn’t believe... “Connor?”

He stretched the chord between his fingers, looping a second to the bed post. “Yeah?”

“What precisely are you doing, lad?” A blink, and Connor studied the chord in his hand, finishing the knot. “Readying the chords for use?” He frowned. “You showed me how to tie these, I’m doing it correctly-”

“I’m not arguing that. Rather, you do know I have no intention of being bound to a bed post?”

An owlish blink. He looked at the rope, and blinked again, frowning. “Then why the hell did you want fro-”

Large calloused hands pulled him, and he was on the bed before he knew it, facing the head board, a wrist captured in between larger hands as he watched the chord entangle around it.

“Wait...you’re tying me down?!” Grey eyes blinked, looking from his sons almost bound wrist, to his face, and back.

“What gave it away, Connor oh Captain of the Obvious?”

“B-but you wanted to bottom!”

“Correction, I want to bottom. My desire to do so has yet to wane, despite your constant babble.” He gaped wordlessly, Haytham's eyebrow raising.

“Now that’s an attractive look for you.”

“Oh shut up!”

“And now you’ve ruined it.”

“Fuck off-”

“And they say the art of intelligent conversing is dead.”

“Dad!”

“Mm?” The second knot tied against his wrist, Connor found himself unable to lift his arms, biceps tense and flexed. “Was this really necessary?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Indubitably.” He noted Connor’s frown, checking the bindings. Tight, but not enough to cause serious pain. “Alright lad, why the look? I can’t be expected to perform with that scowl about your face.”

“I’m not complaining, I like being bound..." The itch of rope, the sting or rubbing, the stain it left across his skin; it was a comfort. “...but why now?”

“Rather, why for this?”

“Yeah.”

He answered without hesitation. “Because you’ll botch it.” 

The glare he received could melt glaciers.

“Yeah, I’m a total fuck up in the bedroom. Wouldn’t want me botching it by touching you.”

Haytham frowned instantly. “Connor-”

“You are such a narcissistic asshole. What, so only you can touch you? You think I’m incapable of being a competent top?”

“Boy, I never commented on the matter.”

“The fuck you didn’t. How am I supposed to take this?” The minimal arm movement brought attention to his already pink hands. “Yeah Connor, just lay there, I need to borrow your dick,’kay? But don’t touch me, just sit there while I fuck myself on it. Hopefully I won’t fuck up being a living dildo.”

“You’re fucking something up by being a dildo, as you so diligently put it.”

“Oh boo hoo, the opportunity to watch you ride me for the first time?” Brown eyes rolled, the face before him taking on a blank quality. “Right, because you’ve never done that before.”

“As a matter of fact,” how he remained calm even when angry was beyond him. “I haven’t.”

He scoffed, snorted, looked at his fathers poker pace. His own slowly morphed, a questioning look of disbelief etched upon skin. “Never?”

“Am I known to lie, lad? No, never.” Another blink and Connor looked around startled.

“You’re a virgin?” A smack up the side of his head, Haytham pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where in the hell did you locate that fact? Oh right, probably the same place you assumed everything else that’s left your mouth the last odd minute.”

“So you’re not a virgin.”

Really, Conor? He sputtered, barely resisting the urge to smack him again. “No! I said I’ve never ridden someone before. Perhaps if you stopped nagging and began paying attention to what was said you’d of realized that.” He ignored the jibe momentarily, head tilted to the side.

“So, when did you last-”

“You are trying my patience, Connor. I reiterate, it’s none of your concern.”

“The fuck it isn’t! I need to know how soft I should-”

A finger pointed, gray eyes narrowed to slits. “See? That’s why you’re tied down.”

Connor blinked, staring at himself. “...For being soft?”

“Precisely.”

“Well that seems unfair, you’re not exactly erect yourself.” If looks could kill, Connor would have hemorrhaged blood.

“I pray that was the worst attempt at humor in the history of man and not you being thick.”

“That too is an inherited trait-” His mouth shut as Haytham attempted to undo a binding. “Alright, alright I’ll stop talking.”

“Oh joy, dreams really do come true.” Frowning, Connor watched his father stop undoing the bindings, though his expression portrayed little. Still, he had to ask.

“I’ll botch this by being soft?” There was no accusation in his tone, simply question. Haytham waved his hand dismissively.

“You’ve said it multiple times now. You want this to be gentle and soft. That is the last thing I want this to be.”

"There's nothing wrong with being gentle-"

"I never said there was, lad. I stated I do not like it." Exasperated, muscular arms crossed over his bare chest in a huff. "This is for my enjoyment. I'm not someone in need of coddling, Connor. I needn't the care most require, nor do I desire it." Brown met grey silently.

"Alright. Untie me, and I will give you what you want." A snort, and Connor grunted as he was sandwiched between cheeks, an unfamiliar warmth pressed to his flaccid cock. "I'd rather just take it myself, lad. Can't trust you to keep up the pace. You'll stop at the first sign of discomfort. I cannot allow that." A pause, and Haytham almost grinned.

"That and I’ll want a sandwich. If I do the work it’ll leave you without excuses justifying defying my demands you lazy little shit."

He sputtered. "I'm lazy? Mr. Fetch me rope, fetch me the paper, fetch me a ball gag-"

"Which I do not have, making you lazy and incompetently forgetful. If you weren’t blood lad-”

"Yeah I'm real lucky."

"-I'm ignoring the sarcasm in favor of correcting your former statement. I'm not 'lazy' I'm demanding." Spitting into his hand, Haytham reached around and prodded with a small grimace, inserting two fingers. "There's a difference."

"...Are you kidding me?" Haytham frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm purchasing you a dictionary for Christmas. Really lad you've no grasp of the language."

He rolled his eyes dismissively. "Not that, that." He gestured between his fathers legs, Haytham watching his shoulder move.

"I'm preparing myself for penetration."

"Shouldn't you be erect first?!"

"I would be if you'd only shut up."

"Oh piss off."

"After this I very well may."

He leaned in for a kiss, Connor accepting it with a mutter. "You're ridiculous."

"You're still talking."

Connor bit down, lower lip between his teeth before he sucked, none to gently. "You're still soft, old man."

"Because your mouth cancels out all the hard work your ass does." Nails scratched a path down his ribs, welting flesh. Connor hissed, writhing under the touch. "Now shut up and kiss me."

"Yes sir." Grey eyes rolled, but accepted the kiss, all tongue, teeth, and animalistic ferocity. His Connor was a beast of man when provoked, a force to be reckoned with. Nothing but power behind biting teeth, a demanding tongue that twisted and plunged, deep, hard sucks against his neck, his lips, his jaw.

The fact remained Connor needn't use hands. The hardening cock pressing against his own was a clear indicator. Haytham internally bristled and celebrated simultaneously; damn the lad for his skill. He must have had an incredible teacher.

That thought made him smirk, fingers quickening their pace, scissoring. He found the spot with the tips of his fingers, the first groan leaving him in the form of a shuddering breath. Located, he glanced between them, down to the uncircumcised cock, hardened beneath him.

His spit once, positioning himself as he slathered, only to halt as Connor sputtered.

"W-wait-"

"Mm?" He spared a glance, Connor balking.

"That's it? That's all the preparation you're going to give yourself?" A glance between them, to Connor's cock and up again to his face. His expression remained unchanged. Connor bristled.

"Even you can concede, I'm larger than average. You need more lubrication to account for it."

He had a point. Another wad of spit joined the second, wiped on haphazardly. "There."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Like I care."

"Seriously dad I'm going to hurt you, would you at le- oh /fuck/!"

The only reply was a hiss, the large, full head of his cock already fully inside what was the tightest fuck he'd ever imagined. It didn’t stop there, the shaft quickly engulfed in what was a war with muscles. Every inch fought it’s way through, Connor biting his lip through, the taste of copper invading as he was engulfed. Tight, searing heat. How long at it been for him? It was a brief thought in the flurry.

The press of cheeks against his balls and he felt his father sag. Opening bleary eyes, he was tense from head to toe. Thighs shook around his, his body agonizingly tight, almost painfully so, and Connor dared a look down, unsure.

No, he was still erect. His eyes were shut and breathing thick, but he was ever erect.

“Dad?” A hoarse croak and Haytham opened his eyes, his hands gripping the sheets. “Perhaps you should-”

The flurry of movement, the raise of thighs straight up and back down again. He hadn’t let himself adjust. The spasm of muscles did wonders to his cock, and Connor grit his teeth. Don’t thrust, don’t thrust, Connor, don’t-

“Lad, move.” Deep and guttural, the playful smirk struck him breathless. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Lips twitching in agreement, tan feet planted themselves on the bed, admiring the body that rose and fell before him, rhythm steady. And fast paced. The slap of skin was already audible, hips rocking to and fro, and Connor licked his lips, experimentally pulling out as Haytham pulled up, to thrust upward. Hard.

Hard enough to pull a groan- a real, thick, heady groan- from his father, jaw slackening briefly. “Yes, good lad. Like that, again.”

Ignoring the dog like praise, he obeyed, the slam of flesh on flesh ricocheting, growing far more constant as the pace increased. But there was only so much he could do, tied to the bed, without his arms.

And he could see the frustration on his father’s face, forehead beginning to glisten.

“Untie me.”

“Like hell.”

“I can better fuck you with free hands.” There was a pause, Haytham sitting fully in Connors lap, a united moan escaping both of them as he seated himself, panting. “Leverage...I can use proper leverage, another position-”

“I won’t be pinned to the mattress.” A deep growl and Connor agreed if only because his cock twitched at the sound.

“Fine, fine- but one hand. One hand and I can hold your hip, quicken the pace-”

“Be that as it may, you’ll attempt to break free, and then what?” He rocked his hips roughly, teeth grit through the mix of pained pleasure. “ Love making? Cuddling? Or god forbid, pet names?”

“You really- oh that’s good- think I’m fast enough to undo these binds without you noticing?” A pause, and Haytham halted his movement, lifting his hips and plummeting, a weak curse leaving parted lips. “You’re old, not incapacitated.”

“Flattery.” Although there were truth to the words yet, and truth be told harder sounded better. Still... “I swear lad, if you try and ruin this for me-”

“I won’t. Whatever you w-want.” A deep sigh, and Haytham merely rotated his hips, Connor shutting his eyes with a groan, hips snapping forward hard enough to almost throw his father of balance. A hand would prevent that, wouldn’t it?

The chord loosened, and by the he time he opened his eyes his right hand was freed, red and raw around the wrist. Expectant gray eyes met his, the demand silent, and Connor grabbed a hip, nails digging into flesh before thrusting upward, hard enough to again knock Haytham over. He bucked wildly, his father plunging down ward to meet him, his hand guiding them both together. Heels planted deeper into the bedding, the room a constant sound of slapping and deep, low moans.

As his body began to tighten, as Haytham erratically moved, his hand drifted elsewhere, first and foremost to his fathers backside, ready to pull backward in a little smack-

“I will murder you. In your sleep. With your own cock, lad.”

...and returned downward. He groaned as he looked between them, cock disappearing and reappearing rapidly, spasming ass around him stretched and reddened. The blood hadn’t surprised him, though he wish it were non existent as little as it was.

“You’re bleeding.”

A smirk. “Good. We’re doing this right.”

He would snort if not for the pleasure. So close...

His hand drifted to hair, grey eyes narrowing. “Boy...”

He halted, but ran a thumb over his fathers Adam’s apple, his slick neck pulsing under his hand. No response. He expected a scathing comment or look, but instead he saw contemplation.

And a nod.

Slowly, he tightened his grip, fingers squeezing the erratic pulse hard, and Haytham adjusted, one arm supporting his weight while the other interlaced over his sons fingers...and squeezed. Hard. Hard enough to turn his neck pink under his initial grasp, teeth bared as Connor kept the grip tight.

The pace didn’t quicken but there was no need. Haytham tightened around him, face garnering a pink tinge, body rocking. Fuck.

Connor thrust again, and again, Haytham’s movements more of an erratic flurry as he fought to breath. His body spasmed, stilling, and it took Connor a moment to realize what he was witnessing.

Pupils dilated before eyes shut, his mouth agape with a wordless moan. Nails burrowed a path down his ribs, skin raised and tearing under his grasp. He thought to abandon his neck for his cock but there was no need, seed spurting in thick white ropes across his abdomen, Connor loosening his grip. A moan left him the moment he did, and Connor thrust a few more times, through the tightness, heat claiming him. He too came in spurts, thrusting as he did, cock nestled against Haythams prostate. Haytham groaned, slumping forward, leaning on the junction of Connor’s trapped bound arm and neck.

For a moment, silence, save for heavy panting. Haytham moved first, shakily untying the bind, leaving Connor’s lap with a his and a thick dribble. Right, that feeling. He could never get used to that...

He was joined moments later, Connor next to him, wordlessly.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t botch it.” Heavy breathing and a small, amused chuckle.

“Indeed, you didn’t.” A few more moments, and Connor moved closer. When Haytham made no move to back away, he dared wrap an arm around him, loose and about his shoulders. “That was pleasant, yeah?”

“Mm.” He tentatively touched hair, fine hair from the feel between calloused fingertips. “Perhaps I can use both hands next time.”

“Perhaps.” Oh, there would be a next time? Connor did smile at that, hand leaving the ends of hair to tighten around a shoulder, briefly.

“Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Sandwich.”

“...Really?” Haytham merely shrugged. “I haven’t eaten breakfast.”

A sigh, and Connor unwrapped his arm. “...Alright.” Besides, his father shouldn’t be walking around just yet anyway. As amusing as it may be.

“No duck bread.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“And try not mutilate the toast. How one can do that is beyond me.”

“Okay.”

“And remember, triangles.”

“Anything else Master Kenway?” The clipped tone didn’t go past Haytham.

“...More pillows.” He merely rose an eyebrow, and Haytham shrugged. “Discomfort from a passionate round of intercourse. I wish to rest.” Connor snorted.

“You mean pain from taking my huge dick up your ass.”

“Exaggeration and liable. While it was a tight fit, it was of my own volition, no thanks to you.” A brown eye twitched,

“Yeah with all the sticks up there it would be.”

Gray eyes narrowed. “Sandwich lad, now.”

“Get it yourself, old man.” Connor turned on heal, smirk on his lips. “If you can.”

Haytham huffed, rolling over and getting out of bed. “See here bo-”

Grey eyes widened, fingers tightening around the post as a nice burst of pain hit him. Granted, he‘d experienced worse, but it‘s origin made it all the more awkward. And sitting only seemed to aggravate a matter. His voice remained surprised rather than wounded. “Oh bother.”

“And this is why we should have gone slowly.” Haythams glare morphed into a grimace the moment he was placed upon the bed. “To give old man ass the chance to adjust.”


End file.
